


Borderline

by katsudong_nikifortop



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Abuse, Attempted Murder, Eating Disorders, F/M, Homophobia, Kidnapping, Killing Stalking AU, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Murder, Obsession, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Third Person, Sexual Assault, Stalking, Stockholm Syndrome, Unhealthy Relationships, Violence, this is gonna be fucked up strap in
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-10-25 22:09:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10773456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katsudong_nikifortop/pseuds/katsudong_nikifortop
Summary: There’s a guy I like. I follow his social media religiously and moved to Russia for him, but I don’t want him to know…because I’m sure I’ll be labeled as a stalker, but that’s not the only problem. He will never accept me because,I am Katsuki Yuuri and I am a male.*no prior knowledge of Killing Stalking necessary**summary in 1st person, but fic is in 3rd*





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi :) This is my fic based on killing stalking. At the beginning the chapters will correlate with KS chapters, but I am planning on deviating from the plot of KS
> 
> This will have graphic murder, violence, etc so if you are triggered by this or dislike killing stalking I advise you to not read this. 
> 
> Also this is NOT a love story and NOT romanticizing abuse or the relationship Vic and Yuuri will have or the one Yoon Bum and Sang Woo have in KS.

Yuuri waited in the shadows of the neighborhood as he watched the red car leave the secluded house. He closed his eyes and counted under his breath. One, two, three, four as the sound of the engine gradually became more distant. He slinked out of the shadows beside the small complex and ducked through a hole in the side of the fence. Yuuri had been canvasing the house and neighborhood for months. Surely an internationally acclaimed model could afford better housing.

Yuuri willed his heart to stop racing as he threw a handful of flour over the security keypad. The flour clung to four numbers: 2, 4, 5, 8  
Because of love, Yuuri meticulously pressed different combinations of the four numbers. 2, 4, 5, 8. 4, 5, 8, 2. 5, 8, 4, 2. Each failed combination brought him a step closer to Victor.  
Because of love  
Because of true love.  
Because he saved my life.  
Yuuri first saw Victor Nikiforov in a fashion magazine when Victor was seventeen, a budding star and Yuuri was only thirteen. Young, fresh faced and painfully beautiful. Long silver locks and eyelashes that Yuuri would trace at night longingly before he was even old enough to understand his longing.  
He furtively hid torn out photos from magazines and forgein newspapers under his bed throughout Victor’s career as a teen model when his poses were coy and sweet until recently when Victor was twenty-seven and preferred Calvin Klein to Abercrombie and Fitch.  
Yuuri prided himself on knowing everything about Victor he could find from interviews to old Russian yearbooks he tracked down. Which is why when Victor, at twenty-two, was walking the runway at some international fashion show in Japan, Yuuri saved up all his salary from working at the local ramen shop and his allowance from his parents for tickets and transportation.  
Flash. Flash. When Yuuri stared awestruck at Victor as he debuted his sheared locks, Yuuri felt hot tears run down his face. Overwhelmed, Yuuri slipped out the back of the oversized auditorium in Tokyo as soon as Victor finished on the catwalk for the night. Yuuri caught his breath in the alleyway next to the auditorium, a hand over his racing heart. _Is this love?_  
“Boys I think we found ourselves an alley cat.” Yuuri remembers moist hands grabbing his arms, the feeling of the brick rough against his back. A million snake-like-hands slithered all down his body. Yuuri closed his eyes and counted to ten. Don’t move and they won’t hurt you.  
“Pretty boy.” A voice whispered in his ear as his shirt was torn. Buttons clattered against the concrete. Yuuri let out a sob as he was suddenly let go. His knees bit the concrete hard. Yuuri heard grunting, the sound of slapping flesh, and then shouts. Sneakers hit the concrete in the opposite direction.  
When he was propped up by his savior, brown eyes met blue and Yuuri lost his breath all over again.  
“Are you alright?”  
The police told me I was saved because of his intervention.  
Beep Beep Beep. Wrong code again.  
       
“Excuse me” Yuuri jumped and when he turned around, he was met with the sight of a balding man leaning out of a police car. A shiver ran down Yuuri’s spine, this was it. All Yuuri’s hard work, over. For nothing. “There’s been an increase in illegal trespassing in the area, be careful…wait is that Victor’s house? Must’ve moved.” The small blonde officer in the passenger’s seat stared at him with piercing green eyes before getting out of the car.  
“Is this your house?” The surprisingly small officer asked. Yuuri gulped.  
“I’m a friend. I left some textbooks I need to pick up from Victor.” The young officer squinted, unconvinced, and Yuuri cursed his nationality. He stood out in Russia since the day he moved from Japan. He spoke Russian fluently and without accent, but it was still clear by his looks that he didn’t quite belong.  
“Have a good day then.” The officer said unsmiling and unmoving.  
“Thank you…” Yuuri felt the heavy weight of the short man’s glare on him as he typed the final possible combination in the keypad. The keypad beeped angrily.  
“You have pressed the combination five times.” A mechanical voice from the alarm system chirped. Yuuri’s hand shook as he reached out to press the numbers again. He was sure the combination was correct. He had been working for this moment for three months. The keypad beeped once more and unlocked.  
“Bye, then.” Yuuri said with a smile not letting his face betray his fear. Yuuri opened the door and slammed it behind him. He collapsed against the door before laughing incredulously.  
“Victor’s house. Finally,” He sighed. Yuuri slipped off his shoes and observed the inside of the house he had been dreaming of for years. Yuuri had pictured a sleek modern home. This was unexpected. Decorations were sparse. The walls a smooth off white. It smelled heavily of lemon disinfectant. It didn’t seem a home for anyone, let alone a model.  
Yuuri followed the stairway which led him to Victor’s bedroom. It was practically empty except for a rumbled bed and closet. Yuuri laid down on the bed, inhaling the scent of the pillow. Musky. Manly. Victor.

\----

Yuri felt uneasy as he and Yakov continued their daily patrol around St. Petersburg. That piggy boy was overly nervous. Suspicious.  
Suddenly, the old man pulled over the car again and honked the horn at some clingy couple at a local food vendor in the city.  
“Victor!” He shouted at the couple. The silver haired man smiled brightly and it annoyed Yuri. How fake.  
“Officer Feltsman, it’s been way too long. How’s Lilia?”  
“Still the cause of my hair loss.” Victor laughed loudly, the red-haired women on his arm clutched at his jacket. Victor leaned on the car window sticking in his head to talk to Yakov. "Join us for dinner soon, we can catch up properly."  
“Of course, Where’s Georgi?” Asshole Victor said without acknowledging Yuri.  
“He moved districts. Now I’m training this one.” Victor met Yuri’s eye. His obnoxious smile didn’t reach his eyes.  
“I see, I’m Victor Nikiforov.” Yuri ignored Victor's out streched hand.   
“Police Officer Yuri Plisetsky.” Yakov coughed and gave Yuri a glare.   
“Victor, your friend is waiting for you at your house.” Yakov said.  
“Excuse me?” Victor said, still smiling his fake smile with his cruel, icey eyes.

\------

Yuuri pressed a hand against the front of his old jeans as he clutched Victor’s pillow to his face. He inhaled deeply.  
“Victor please.” He moaned as he grinded into his palm.  
**CLANG!**  
The noise shook Yuuri out of his daydream. The closet rattled from the noise. When Yuuri opened the closet door, he found a hatch with an open padlock. The hatch opened into a set of old stairs leading into a dark basement.  
Yuuri settled his nerves and slowly stepped into the basement, engulfed in darkness. His head hit a low hanging light and he groaned in pain. He fumbled with the light till he found the switch. He blocked his eyes from the light with his hand as the brightness burned them at first.  
When he looked around again, a few feet in front of him was a woman on the floor. A blonde woman. A blonde naked woman. A blonde, naked women with a blindfold over her eyes, gag in mouth, and ties at her wrists and ankles. She thrashed violently as Yuuri flew back.  
“What the hell??” Yuuri said as hit the ground in shock. He inched closer to the woman. “Are you alright?” He asked quietly. He slid off the blindfold and untied the gag in her mouth.  
“SAVE ME! PLEASE HELP ME!” She shouted frantically, thick tears ran down her face and mixed with the dried blood at her nose.  
“Please calm down, I’ll…I’ll untie you.” She thrashed harder, eyes the size of dinner plates.  
“Get the FUCK AWAY FROM ME!” She shouted.  
“I’m just trying to untie you!” Yuuri said retracting his hands. The woman screamed louder, staring behind Yuuri.


	2. Chapter 2

The stairs creaked behind Yuuri. He begged his legs to move, to run, but he was paralyzed. Before he could turn his head more than a tilt to the left, a hard object connected with his shoulder. Yuuri shouted as he hit the ground, pain reverberating from his shoulder. Hot tears stung his eyes. 

“Who are you? I haven’t ever told a friend my address.” His assailant said. Yuuri shook his head and refused to turn around and confirm his worst nightmare. That smooth velvety voice he knew from interviews and in person was not the voice laced with malice he was hearing now. It was a maid or a groundskeeper or a gardener. It must be. 

Yuuri clutched his shoulder and crawled forward. He sobbed as he was dragged back by his hoodie and flipped over onto his back. This is not Victor. This is not Victor. Victor is kind and considerate and would never…

This man had the same face as Victor. Same high cheek bones and delicate eyebrows as he pressed a shoe, more expensive than Yuuri’s entire wardrobe, down on his soft chest and spun a wooden bat in one hand. 

Yuuri smacked the alabaster ankle with as much force as he could muster, and pushed himself up. He dashed for the stairs as Victor watched smiling. The bat knocked his legs from under him as he reached towards the light at the top of the stairs. Yuuri’s stomach dropped as he tumbled down the stairs. Smack, smack, smack. His head and elbows and knees connected with the stairs. 

When he finally hit the ground, Yuuri lay in a crumbled heap on his back. Blood freely flowing from his forehead onto the floor. He scooted back against the wall and Victor stalked forward towards him expressionless. Yuuri’s Victor Nikiforov was dead. Victor straddled Yuuri with his legs, standing over him. He raised the bat over his head. Yuuri shook his head. He didn’t want to die. 

“I fell in love with you.” He shouted, arms raised in defense. “You had a show in Tokyo, 5 years ago. You saved me from a gang of men. I…I never wanted to annoy you or scare you like this, but I just love you so much.” Yuuri confessed. Victor crouched over Yuuri’s legs, confusion or shock painted across his sculpted face. 

“Stop mumbling, piggy.” Victor said, tapping the baseball bat against his shoulder. Yuuri hung his head in shame. Drops off blood fell onto his worn-out jeans. Victor reached out and gently ran his fingers through Yuuri’s hair. “Soft.” He smiled. “Now, this basement isn’t big enough for both of you. Let’s go upstairs.” 

Yuuri swallowed, tears and blood in his mouth, and followed Victor up the stairs. This was his Victor. A Victor of kindness and forgiveness. 

“Are you forgiving me?” Yuuri asked softly. Victor turned around and gave Yuuri a hundred-watt smile, Yuuri felt himself melt into the stairs. Beautiful. 

“Yes,” He raised out an extended palm to Yuuri. As Yuuri reached for the outstretched hand, Victor flipped it and shoved Yuuri towards the ground, “But not with your legs like that.” Yuuri’s head connected with the floor first and he was plunged into darkness. 

 

“Plisetsky, stop fidgeting. You’ve been acting strange since our last round.” Yuri forced his hand to stop its incessant tapping on the dashboard. 

“It’s nothing.” Yuri crossed his arms and stared out the window. St. Petersburg was such a shit hole. 

“Spit it out, boy!” Yakov growled. “If you don’t get it off your chest, you’re just going to bother me all day.” 

“That guy you stopped to talk to---“

“Ah, Victor.” Yakov interrupted. 

“How do you know him?” Yuri asked leaning forward, elbows on his knees. Yakov pulled the car over into an empty downtown parking space, and sighed. 

“His parents were murdered when he was a teenager.” Yuri steeled his face to mask his intrigue. 

“Oh, that unsolved double homicide case 10 years ago-“ 

“Yes, be quiet. I was part of the investigation, but there wasn’t any evidence. I’ll never forget his tears. Lilia and I can’t have children, and I decided to look after him. He’s a kind boy when he doesn’t let his fame get to his head.” 

“I remember reading the files from that case, was strange. Seemed the work of an insider…” Yuri trailed off, point made. 

“Yuri, what are you saying?” Yakov insisted. 

“I remembered reading about it in the papers when I was young. So, when I joined the force, I read over the files. The robbery evidence all seemed planted. I thought---“

“You thought he killed his parents.” Yakov scoffed. 

“It’s a possibility.” Yuri shrugged. 

“That is absolutely ridiculous. You can’t fake the mourning I saw him go through.” Yakov hollered, spittle flying at Yuri’s face. He moved the car out of park without another word. Yuri whipped the spit from his face. He had a sour feeling in his gut. 

 

Boom. Boom. Boom. 

Yuuri woke slowly, head throbbing. His face felt tight as the blood had crusted over. His right ankle, hot and numb. He tried to lift his hands to wipe the dried blood from his face but they were blocked by heavy chains bound at his wrists and looped around a pole. Yuuri sat up quickly, shocked to find himself left only in his tight black underwear, gut hanging over. 

He lay back down on the cold, damp floor and shivered. He turned onto his side to curl up when he was face to face with the women from earlier. Her eyes were open and cloudy, blonde locks shorn off. He pulled on his chains, shouting, trying to force himself away from the corpse. Her stomach was torn open, gelatinous pink intestines peeking out. He retched as he realized the dampness of the floor was a puddle of cold blood, staining his skin. His leg throbbed intensely as he kicked at nothing. 

“You’re being very rude! Screaming at a lady’s face.” Victor teased as he sauntered down the steps gracefully, plastic bag in hand. “She was the daughter of a CEO of a very important pharmaceutical company.” He kicked at her stiff body with his brown loafers and chuckled. “She screamed for you so hard when you were out, like you could hear her. Stupid till the end.” Yuuri stared in shock. “Hmmm…she’s stiffer than yesterday.” He threw down a chunk of blonde hair on her body that he pulled from the pocket of his designer suit, then turned to Yuuri. “So, you’re fat, unemployed, judging on your atrocious clothing, a foreigner, and a fag. Those scars on your wrists, your father must’ve beat you, or…” He placed a finger over his plush lips as he thought, “maybe it’s related to your homo tendencies. Normally I’d kill you, but I haven’t killed a man since my father, consider yourself lucky.” 

Yuuri looked into Victor’s eyes searching for evil, but still saw the same beautiful face. He forced his eyes shut. Victor trailed a finger down Yuuri’s leg. “Pretty.” Victor reached into the plastic bag he held and pulled out a tin

“You must be hungry, piggy.” Victor straddled Yuuri again, towering over Yuuri, as he opened the tin. Yuuri flinched and Victor handed it down to him. “It’s just porridge.” Yuuri still looked apprehensive, so Victor took a bite. Victor grabbed Yuuri’s jaw and forced his mouth open with one hand as he poured the porridge in with another. Yuuri gagged and the porridge slowly dribbled out of his mouth. Victor threw the porridge container across the room. The bang echoed across the room, and Yuuri shook silently sobbing. 

“DON’T SPIT IT OUT. YOU UNGRATEFUL…” Victor shouted into Yuuri’s petrified face before taking a deep breath and calming himself to a simmering anger. “I had to go all the way to the store to buy this. It’s risky for me out there, paparazzi and all. You should be thanking me for every morsel anyways. My kindness is the only reason you can taste anything at all. But, you don’t want porridge fine. You’re going to lose that tummy.“ Victor poked Yuuri’s stomach with his shoe. “How do you feel?” He asked in a sweet tone with a suddenly jovial smile. Yuuri forced a concurring smile as he shook. 

“I feel good.” He responded, wanting to throw up all over Victor’s shoe. 

“Why the fuck would you feel good, you fucking retard.“ Victor said in boiling rage, twisting his shoe against Yuuri’s soft stomach. Yuuri yelped in pain. Victor then fell to his knees, now bracketing Yuuri’s hips, and lifted Yuuri’s head from the floor. He smashed his lips against Yuuri’s, and bit down until Yuuri tasted blood again. Yuuri let his arms dangle, held up only by Victor’s arms around his waist. Eyes wide open, he stared at Victor’s face. His skin was perfectly smooth. 

Victor stood and wiped the trail of bloody saliva from his chin. He kissed Yuuri even with porridge in his mouth, even with his disgusting gut. How kind and loving of him. Even with how disgusting Yuuri is. Victor stepped off Yuuri, and turned towards the stairs. 

“Victor.” Yuuri crooned, reaching towards Victor and sliding up his left leg to rest on the ankle. Victor turned abruptly and Yuuri mourned the loss of the view of his slim waist and backside. 

“Your left leg is fine?” Victor asked face morphing into a look of disappointment. Victor sighed and ran a hand against the pole of a sledgehammer that was leaning against a work bench of tools. “Yuuri you have to tell me if you feel fine, or I won’t know. Like how you’d treat a lover.” Cold sweat beaded on Yuuri’s brow.

“Vic…Victor?“

“If you don’t tell anyone how you feel, you end up being the one who gets hurt.” Victor shook his head, and lifted the sledge hammer up to rest against his shoulder as he walked back to where Yuuri was chained. He placed a foot down on Yuuri’s left leg, holding it steady

“Victor, please, please Victor don’t!” Yuuri pleaded desperately. Victor laughed as he held the hammer over his head and swung down like a ruthless pendulum. 

Crack. No, it’s more like a crunch. The most excruciating crunch Yuuri has ever felt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter two <3

**Author's Note:**

> p.s I'm having some formatting issues with the website, if anyone in the comments can explain how I can get paragraph indentations to be consistent that'd be awesome


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